


G is for Gate

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Series: JB's Stargate Soup Recipes [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alphabet Soup Challenge, Episode: s09e01 Avalon (1), Episode: s10e06 200, Gen, Introspection, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One, Cam thinks with a touch of wonder, as he steps through the event horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One, Two Story

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this was for SG-1 [gen alphabet soup](http://fignewton.dreamwidth.org/194383.html): Cameron Mitchell, and the roots of the counting habit referenced in "200"; the second came from my notes, months later, written as a companion ficlet.

_One_ , Cam thinks with a touch of wonder, as he steps for the first time into the shimmering disc of an event horizon.

He's read about it. Seen pictures, in files husbanded for self-reward after endless rounds of physical therapy. Heard stories from those who've taken this step before him. But none of that compares to actually making the journey: to crossing millions of miles in the time it takes to take one breath.

He shivers as he steps out the other end, drinking in the air of an entire _other world_. He might as well have put on a pair of seven league boots; it's that magical, and that much a fulfillment of an impossible dream. Even if he's not so much _on_ SG-1 as he _is_ SG-1 at present... he's just stepped through _a Stargate_ to the cradle of an entire alien civilization. How amazing is that?

He takes a moment, staring around at the ornate columns of Dakara and the robed Jaffa with the gold tattoo waiting for him, taking a mental snapshot for posterity. Teal'c, in his native setting: somehow even more impressive than he'd seemed in camo and Kevlar back on Earth. Though there's nothing even remotely yielding about him, despite his nod of welcome-- yeah, Cam's not going to get the answer he wants from him today. 

But that's all right. Cam knows better than anyone the value of persistence; he wouldn't even be there if he didn't. Showing up is about affirming his intention, not winning. It would have been _nice_ , mind you; but he's just spent two years living life one milestone at a time, commemorating each setback and success with inches forward on his mental metric. It's nothing new.

He enjoys the conversation as long as it lasts, then returns to the Gate and watches the event horizon whoosh into being.

"Two", he murmurs, remembering the way it felt under his hand: warm, living metal, relic and symbol of a civilization long gone to dust.

The journey of a thousand miles. He smiles wryly to himself and crosses into the blue.


	2. No Simple Recon Mission

_One, two, skip a few... how does the old rhyme go?_

Cam has never really shaken that first tingle of awe, the jolt of satisfaction he feels every time he steps into the great rippling mirror of the Stargate. Maybe it's different for those whose first strides into looking glass country brought them loss; who treat it as simply an exotic means of transportation; or who see it as a technological marvel to be dissected and understood. 

But for Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, it is and always will be a symbol of everything he's fought so hard for; a source of wonder right out of the stories of his granddad's reclusive friend. He completely understands why the Goa'uld injected its metal into their bloodstreams, trying to harness its power for their own.

That isn't to say the wonders it shows him are always apple pie and rainbows:

_...Forty-one: the Sodan Warriors. Seventy-seven: the Galarans. Eighty-eight: his old friend Bryce. And ninety-one: a first-class seat to the spectacle of mutually assured destruction._

But sometimes he gets to hold Excalibur in his hands, or save an entire community from destruction.

 _...Ninety-nine, one hundred. One hundred and fifty: following in King Arthur's footsteps to Camelot_.

It's worth keeping count, he figures, in a time and place when so little else is worth celebrating, recapturing a little of the wide-eyed enthusiasm he's read between the lines of the early years of the program. Honoring each mission, whether triumph or tragedy, setback or success. The shiny surface may have worn off Jackson and the others... but it's a role _he_ can still fulfill, and gladly.

 _This is what it's all about_ , Cam acknowledges as the chevrons relock one year and thirty-five days after his initial trip. They think he hasn't noticed them noticing, but he's not completely wet behind the ears. Script reading? His grandma's hind end; they're humoring him. Good thing he doesn't mind.

"All right. Let's go check out the mysteries of P2C-106," he grins, wondering who all O'Neill's drafted for his party. 

Then he steps forward, team at his side. 

_Two hundred_.


End file.
